Tempted in the Night (25 page)

She raced out the front door, not stopping until she reached the bottom of the hill where the woods started. Then she made the mistake of looking back. There, at the back door, stood a blond figure that she knew must be Brody. She turned and raced through the woods, heedless of the thorny bushes and tree limbs tearing at her clothes and skin.

The sound of something crashing through the woods after her sent fear spiking through her.
Logic told her she couldn't outrun a vampire; fear and a sense of self-preservation told her to try.

She burst out of the woods and into the cemetery without slowing. She ran past the tombstones without a second glance and was almost to the other side when she was struck from behind. She hit the ground with such force that the air was knocked out of her.

Gasping for breath, she felt like a boneless rag doll when Brody ruthlessly flipped her onto her back. Then his weight settled on top of her and she found herself staring up into a pair of gleaming red eyes.

"Hello, Jessica." Brody drew out her name, hissing like a snake. "I've been thinking about you."

It was a scene from her past—like her nightmares. She was pinned to the ground while death stared her in the face. She heard a pathetic mewling noise, and a detached part of her brain told her it was coming from her. She didn't want to die this way—she didn't want to die at all.

Finally gathering her wits enough to fight, she
pummeled
at the vampire with her fists, but Brody easily caught them and pinned her hands between her body and his knees as he straddled her. Never had she felt more helpless in all her life.

He gave her an evil twisted smile that promised a long and torturous death. When he leaned over and sank his teeth into her neck, Jess almost welcomed the pain. It gave her something other than her fear to focus on. And then, gradually, even the pain began to fade, and her eyes drifted closed.

As John headed for the cemetery, he told himself that he was overreacting. After all, as she so often reminded him, Jess was an experienced vampire hunter. She could take care of herself.

The argument did nothing to lessen the sense of foreboding he'd had since he left
New Orleans
to return home. As the cemetery came into view, he hurried a little faster. He should have known she wouldn't stay inside the mansion as he'd asked, and her willingness to put herself at risk infuriated him. So much so that if she was still alive, he'd probably kill her himself; he was so angry with her.

Not sure what he'd do if she wasn't here, he looked around and saw a sight that frightened him as nothing else ever had.

Near the back of the cemetery, he saw Brody hunched over something close to the ground.

Moving faster than he thought possible, John raced toward the vampire, fury, rage, and fear for Jess driving him. As soon as he was close enough, he launched himself at Brody, who had been too absorbed in drinking Jess's blood to have noticed him. The force of the tackle carried both men several feet off to the side and before Brody could
recover,
John was up and hitting the vampire just as hard as he could. He pounded away at Brody's face, wanting to pulverize it until there was nothing recognizable left.

John hadn't counted on Brody being stronger now, too. Just when John thought he had the upper hand, Brody turned the tables on him, hitting him in the jaw and knocking him off balance.

Both Brody and John scrambled to their feet and squared off. About to launch another attack, John was caught off guard by Brody's smile as he swiped blood off his chin with a finger and then put the finger in his mouth to suck it clean.

"What are you going to do, John?" he sneered. "Her life's blood is draining into the ground. She'll be dead soon if you don't do something to help. Of course, maybe you'll get lucky and kill me. Then again, maybe you won't."

John spared a glance at Jess, and all he saw was her blood. There was no decision to make as he raced to her side, letting Brody escape into the woods.

Scooping her up into his arms, he thought she looked to be at death's door. Strands of hair were plastered to the sides of her face, and her neck and shirt were covered in blood. Determined to race back to the house with her in his arms, he'd only taken a step or two when he felt her hand against his cheek.

"John?"

"It's okay, honey. I have you. I'm going to take you to the hospital."

"Brody?"

John inwardly winced. "Don't worry about him. You're the one who matters most right now."

"No," she cried, though it sounded more like a croak. "I'm fine… looks worse than it is."

It had started to rain, and as some of the blood around her neck rinsed away, John saw that the wounds weren't as serious as he'd first thought. Maybe she wasn't going to die.

His relief was so great that he didn't even care that Brody had played him. Jess was what mattered most to him now.

"Let's get you home," he said, still carrying her in his arms. It rained the entire long walk back to the mansion. They were good and soaked by the time they reached it. Jess's lips had turned blue and she was shivering.

He took her directly upstairs to the bathroom and set her down, pleased to see that she was able to stand on her own.

"You need to get out of these clothes," he ordered as he turned on the faucets of the shower. Her teeth chattered so hard he was afraid she might break a tooth; her hands were shaking so badly that she couldn't undo the buttons of her shirt. He went to her and gently shoved her hands aside. Then, with a deft touch, he undid the buttons for her. As the shirt fell open, his gaze strayed to the bra beneath, which, because it was soaking wet, left nothing to the imagination.

Ignoring his body's reaction, he focused on the waistband of her jeans as he undid them. She stood as docile as a child and he wondered if in her state of delayed shock, she was even aware of what he was doing. Taking her firmly by the shoulders, he turned her away from him and slid her shirt down her arms. He tossed it into the corner of the room. Next, he tugged off her jeans, watching as they slid down long, shapely legs to pool around her feet. Her panties had come down with the jeans, and his gaze caressed the contours of her back, waist, and hips.

She wasn't model thin, but to his eyes she was beauty and perfection, even with her skin dimpled from the cold. Already skirting the cliff's edge of his self-restraint, he didn't even try to help her off with her bra. Instead, he pushed her toward the tub, leaned past her long enough to check the temperature of the water, careful not to let his gaze stray, and then pulled up the knob that turned on the shower. With a gentle shove, she stepped into the tub. When the shower door was safely closed between them, he drew his first easy breath.

Knowing she'd need a robe, he'd started to walk out when the sound of the shower door opening behind him made him stop. He knew he shouldn't turn around, but like a moth drawn to a flame, he couldn't resist.

She was nothing more than a flesh-toned blur behind the opaque glass, but as he watched, her arm appeared through the opening, the sheer bra dangling from her hand. Mesmerized by the translucent material, he stared at it, recalling with agonizing detail how she'd looked in it. Then her fingers opened and the bra fell to the floor.

He couldn't take any more. He hurried from the bathroom, nearly strangling on his muffled groan.

Jessica let the hot water beat at her, its heat seeping into her very core. She waited for it to dissipate the bone-deep chill residing there, afraid that it never would.

She kept her eyes closed until she was sure most of the blood had washed down the drain. Having John find her passed out in the shower would be her final humiliation. Some vampire hunter she was. She'd almost gotten herself killed.

She quickly cut off the direction of that thought. She hadn't died. John had saved her.

Saved her.
Carried her back.
Undressed her.
A blush heated her cheeks and she let her head fall forward under the stream of water, wondering how she was ever going to face him again. Maybe she would just stay under the shower until she drowned.

Quite some time later, her fingers and toes pruned from too long in the water, she stepped out of the shower and saw that John had brought in her robe. She quickly dried off and put it on, luxuriating in the feel of the plush terry cloth wrapped around her.

She ran a comb through her hair and, knowing she couldn't hide forever, opened the bathroom door. A clinking sound from the kitchen was followed by the unmistakable aroma of chicken noodle soup. Almost of their own accord, her feet carried her downstairs to the kitchen, where she found John standing over the stove, stirring a pot. He'd combed his hair, but it had fallen in a tousle about his head, and he'd changed out of his wet clothes into a fresh pair of jeans and a sweatshirt.

"Smells good," she said, her voice still sounding a little raw.

John turned at the sound. "I made you some—" He hesitated when he saw her, and his eyes briefly glowed as they raked over her.

"I'm sorry." Feeling self-conscious, she pulled the robe closed a little more tightly as she turned to leave. "I should have put on clothes before coming down."

"No, you're fine." He crossed the kitchen and took her by the arm, leading her to the table. "Really," he assured her when she gave him a questioning look. "Here, I just made you some soup. Do you feel like eating?"

She managed a wobbly smile.
"Maybe a small amount?"

He took down a bowl, filled it with soup and brought it to her along with a spoon. Then he stood over her while she tasted it.

"It's good."

"It's canned." He sounded like he was apologizing for not making it from scratch.

She looked up to reassure him it was fine and made the mistake of looking into his eyes. His gaze nearly scorched her and she forgot what she was going to say.

"Look, I think I owe you an apology," he finally said, interrupting the awkward silence that had fallen between them. He shook his head. "You've got balls, I'll give you that."

She wasn't sure where that comment had come from. "What do you mean?"

"I don't think I could let a vampire suck on me like that—even if I had drunk whatever that tea is that you drink. Anyway, I wanted to apologize for rushing in like that. I saw him on you and just reacted. I'm sorry if I ruined your plan. Hopefully, he got enough of that toxin in your blood that he's already history."